


Welcome Home

by RussianWitch



Category: Bastille Day (2016)
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Sex, Creampie, Dominance, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Manhandling, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Roughness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23170375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: Couch sex, porn without plot.
Relationships: Sean Briar/Michael Mason
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd

Michael isn’t napping when Briar sets on him.

He’s just resting his eyes and Briar wasn’t supposed to be back yet anyway and the fact that Michael is only wearing sweats means nothing.

It isn’t an invitation, is what he means to say.

Or possibly mumble into the warm leather of the couch cushions.

Sean drags the sweats down, his hands clawing, kneading Michael’s asscheeks with the greed of a two-week separation. The jangle of a belt being opened, the tongue of it poking him in the ass as Sean leans over him to mouth hotly at the back of Michael’s neck.

All of it makes him _ache_ to move—so he stays still and limp as Sean slots his dick between his cheeks.

“I know you’re awake, thief,” Sean pants into Michael’s ear with the first rough thrust against his ass.

“No, I’m not,” he answers the leaner shifting his knee the tiniest bit to improve Sean’s angle and get the sweats to slide lower.

“You think I care?” Sean demands as his hand worms its way under Michael’s body to tease at his rapidly swelling dick.

Yeah, Michael thinks, Sean cares, he’ll never say it but he does.

“Fuck me already!” Michael demands. As much as he enjoys the dick sawing between his ass cheeks, he wants more.

“Don’t have anything,” Sean tells him biting at the nape of Michael’s neck, beard prickling, and scratching. He’s going to look mauled, Michael thinks muzzily.

“You don’t _need_ anything!” He hisses, mutinous and instantly, deeply embarrassed.

“What?” Sean demands, getting off of him.

He’s instantly cold, bereft is probably the word his dick twitching helplessly abandoned in Sean’s retreat.

“I ain’t fucking you raw!” Sean snarls sounding offended.

Looking over his shoulder Michael shudders: Sean _looks_ raw. His shirt rucked up, jeans hanging low, dick invitingly wet, swaying in front of him angrily. Michael’s brain takes a vacation for a few moments mesmerized by the sight of Sean’s taut abdomen and furry thighs.

“You won’t be!” Michael finally manages to get himself enough to huff, blushing furiously when Sean narrows his eyes at him.

“Once a con—,” Sean mutters to himself, spreading Michael’s cheeks roughly to check for himself. In retaliation, Michael bears down pushing out a glob of lube.

Above him once again, Sean curses, his fingers digging in painfully hard.

Michael smothers his moan of satisfaction in the leather of the couch as Sean slides all the way home _knowing_ he won’t be able to walk once Sean is done with him.

“Fuck!” Sean hisses stalling, buried ball’s deep.

Michael shudders pinned down, biting back a desperate moan when Sean puts his full eight on his back making breathing tough.

“Show me how much you’ve missed me, thief,” Sean groans into his ear, raking his nails up Michael’s sides and arms to pin Sean’s wrists to the armrest removing the last option for leverage.

“Are you kidding?!” Michael finds air to yelp wiggling while he considers his options.

“I have faith in you,” Sean mumbles against the back of his neck nipping and sucking his possession into Michael’s skin. 

He's a bastard and Michael doesn't know why he hasn't taken off already. Bracing as best he can, he tightens his muscles as best he can counting seconds in his head until he can let go and tighten up again and again and again. 

Sean bites down a little too hard and _growls_ and yeah, that's what Michael lives for Sean losing it in the best possible ways.

Michael's arms are forced down to his sides, wrist bones grinding together uncomfortably as Sean leans on them pulling out agonizingly slow to snap his hips forward hard just as Michael gets ready to whine at him to get _on_ with it. Instead, he finds himself howling into the leather biting down on it as Sean's dick rubs against his prostate mercilessly. 

"Fuck! I missed that ass," Sean mouths into the space between Michael's shoulderblades biting there as well making him scream. 

The small part of Michael's brain that can still think wonders if there is going to be a scar if he's going to be walking around with Sean's teeth on his spine for the rest of his life despite knowing Sean will never break skin. The bruise will be a bitch, itching and stinging right where he won't be able to reach...until Sean twists his hips and Michael can't think at all.

Pain and pleasure make a sticky mess of his brain and turn everything into sensation.

The old leather sticking to his front, his and Sean's sweat wetting his back, Sean's stubble scratching along his shoulders, Sean's breath on the back of his neck, Sean's dick drilling into him.

This is Michael's nirvana.

Everything becomes quiet, the world narrowing down to the taste of leather in his mouth and Sean's heavy breathing in his ear. 

Michael isn't even aware that he's babbling until Sean stops.

Until Sean pulls out and Michael is left cold and confused teetering on the edge of release.

"What the hell did you say?" Sean growls flipping Michael roughly onto his back.

"Whaat?" Michael manages, trying to rewind the last few minutes.

"What did you just say?" Sean repeats.

Michael strains, he's never managed to acquire a brain to mouth filter—and he just screamed he loves Sean while getting dicked into the couch. 

"Damn," he sighs a million excuses running through his mind as he looks up at Sean's shocked face. "I—people—it's just—," Sean's fingers catch his lips forcing Michael into silence.

"Repeated it!" He orders.

"I—you _know_ people say crazy—"

Sean's hand wraps around Michael's throat.

"Michael—," Sean growls leaning in.

"I love you," Michael forces out bracing for rejection. 

"Idiot!" Sean says in a weird tone.

Michael wants to say something glib, maybe get them back to fucking because his dick is still hopeful and his ball ache.

Sean licks his lips, frowns—then catches Michael's mouth in a filthy, deep kiss.

When Michael is allowed to breathe again, dazed and confused because they don't kiss, Sean is _looking_ at him again.

"You'll end up regretting that," Sean says.

It sounds like a threat, but not exactly a _current_ one and for something like a second, Sean looks almost—sorry? 

"Come on, pretty boy, do I have to say it?" The agent growls cupping Michael's face, crouching over him, ridiculous with his dick hanging out, sweaty and far too serious.

That's when Michael gets it.

The knowledge hits him, like the rush of his first stolen wallet, like getting on a plane without checking the destination, like walking out to confront the bad guy.

"Fuck!" He groans a bolt of arousal shaking his whole body.

"Fuck me!" He demands because the need to come rushes him like an avalanche. "Now!" 

Sean's dick is too slippery to grip properly without hurting him, but the man allows Michael to guide him back down, even going as far as helping to remove Michael's sweats, groaning satisfactory as he pushes inside again, pulling Michael's hips into his lap. 

"Hold on!" Sean orders and his first thurst almost rocks Michael off the couch.

It hurts and it's hot as hell.

The bite between his shoulderblades sticks and rubs against the leather maddeningly spurring Michael on to claw at Sean's shoulders, lock his legs around Sean's waist and leverage himself into the bigger man's lap.

They both groan as Michael sinks deeper onto Sean's dick curling around each other as best as balancing on the narrow couch seat and with Sean's clothing still getting in the way. 

Sean's hands on his cheeks remain to direct Michael's mouth down again and again for explorations of lips and tongue, his dick rubbing against Sean's abdomen as Michael is pulled closer. 

"Come for me, pretty boy," Sean pants against Michael's throat.

For once, Michael follows orders sinking his teeth in Sean's shoulder as he spills himself between them as Sean pulls him down roughly fucking up into his ass.

Michael's ass is almost sore when Sean comes toppling both of them onto the cold leather seat. He groans and knees Sean in the side a couple of times until the other man pulls out with a wounded groan and pulls Michael onto his chest.

"How come you're early?" Michael asks.

"You knew I was coming back early but not why?" Sean frowns.

"Your boss came back earlier than expected," Michael sulks.

"Of course, I'll let him know he has to replace his secretary—again," he chuckles into Michael's hair.

"That's not fair!" Michael bites at a collar bone and gets a slap on his ass for his efforts.

"Keeps you in practice," Sean huffs, "now, shut up!" He closes his eyes and makes a pretense of snoring.


End file.
